


Seat 7B

by bettycooperthefirst



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, airplane au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 14:40:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17706170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bettycooperthefirst/pseuds/bettycooperthefirst





	Seat 7B

A trip to the town her mother had moved to was not high on Betty’s to do list. But Alice Cooper had been living in the small town of Riverdale for a year now and Betty had yet to visit her, so when her boss told her to take a long weekend, her mother offered to pay for her ticket in a desperate move for Betty to “come see all that the small town of Riverdale has to offer.”

Betty was in need of a trip out of the big city of Portland, but Riverdale was all the way across the country, so it would be a long flight. She’d managed to get a flight with no layover and was currently 30 minutes into it, reading a book her mother had been shoving down her throat for months. It was some famous book by a guy from her moms new town. Some sort of fiction story that featured all of the actual places in Riverdale, but was much darker than the actual town itself. There was Pops, a diner where the main character liked to sit and write- Betty could relate to this, being a journalist herself. She had seen images of the place on google maps and it was exactly as the book described. This was true of all the places in “A Story About a Town.” The Midnight Drive In was a mainstay for the main character and his friends, but Sweetwater River was where all the real action took place. For some insane reason, this author had decided to write about his hometown and insert a murder into the place of his childhood nostalgia. The star football player had mysteriously gone missing, his sister found at the scene of the crime, tears running down her cheeks. Our main character was quite the opposite of the star football player, but he had taken it upon himself to figure out the mystery. 

 

 _Must be watching too many crime shows,_ Betty thought. 

 

Betty had started the book the night before and she had been considering it a bad train wreck- a mess that she couldn’t look away from. She’d only need about another half hour to finish the book and then she planned to watch an in-flight movie. 

 

So she opened the book, hoping to get lost in its pages.

A woman a few rows up was laughing far too loud for being on a plane.

As they hit some turbulence, a child across the aisle let out a squeal that sounded like excitement.

The flight attendant came around to ask about drinks and Betty sat the book on her lap to open the tray table in front of her.

That was when the boy sitting next to her cleared his throat. 

 

She glanced at the guy in Seat 7B. He was about her age, dark hair, broody. If she said she hadn’t noticed him when she sat down next to him, she’d be lying. But she never talked to anyone on flights- they could be irritating and then she’d be stuck with them for the entire 3 hours. But now the boy gave her a shy smile. 

 

“What are you reading?”

 

“Um.” She glanced down at the book even though she knew the answer. “It’s called A Story About a Town. It’s based on Riverdale. Loosely.”

 

The boy nodded knowingly. “That’s what I thought.”

 

“You’ve read it?”

 

He paused for a second. _Probably embarrassed to admit it._

 

“Yeah. What part are you on?” 

 

“Forsythe’s dad was just arrested for the murder. But there’s 70 pages left. The spot where a book usually gets good.” 

 

“Is that a rule I wasn’t aware of?” He smiled a bit, a familiar smile, Betty noted. _Some people had those, making you feel like you’d known them for awhile even when you’ve definitely never seen them in your life._

 

“When you hit approximately 75 pages, that’s when everything starts to go crazy. If there’s 70 pages left, that means that his dad is definitely not the murderer or else it wouldn’t have been revealed yet. It’s just a red herring. Right?”

 

The boy in 7B chuckled. “I’m not going to spoil it for you. Do you have any other theories?”

 

“Maybe Jason killed himself. To escape this picture perfect life. Maybe he meant to run away and meet Polly but he just couldn’t go through with it.”

Betty paused, looking down at the book again.

“Or maybe Cheryl did it.”

 

He raised one eyebrow. “Cheryl?”

 

“Odds are, people are more likely to be killed by someone they trust.”

 

For some reason, he smiled at this. _A good smile._ “True. So Cheryl?”

 

“Based on the statistics, the odds of being right are in my favor.” 

 

He nodded and the smile increased. _A really good smile._ “How do you like it so far?”

 

Betty considered her options. She would never see this guy again. Absolute honesty seemed like the best route, especially when you had nothing to lose. “I think it’s a little messed up that this guy wrote a book about his hometown and made up some brutal murder taking place in a spot where he probably used to picnic in the summer.”

 

“And the characters?”

 

Betty shrugged. “Forsythe is fine. Archie is constantly making decisions that make it harder for everyone else to get anything done. What did you think when you read it?”

 

7B looked serious as he answered. As if she had asked him the most important question of his life. “I think Archie is written that way for a reason. To be a road block but a tool for the investigation at the same time. Maybe for a good character arc.”

 

Betty raised her hand quickly to point at him. “You said no spoilers.” 

 

He laughed at this. “That’s fair.”

 

"Also, Archie and Veronicas relationship is so romancy for a book like this." Betty opened the book to the last page she had read. "'He watched as their hands entwined, and he could almost see the spark fizz between them at a simple touch." She looked back at Jughead in disbelief. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

 

"You've never touched someone and felt a spark?" He questioned.

 

"Definitely not."

It was silent for a moment and Betty sipped from her soda, wondering if that was where the conversation ended. 

 

When he spoke again, it was quiet. Just loud enough for her to still hear. He looked straight ahead as he spoke. “You think it’s messed up though? Making an existing place more interesting?”

 

“Interesting is one word for it. I read an interview where the guy was talking about how the book is meant to show that in every situation, whether it be a small town or a human being, there’s always more to it than meets the eye." She put on a mocking tone He called it the shadows underneath. Pretentious.” 

 

7B’s head jerked quickly to look at her. “Pretentious?” 

 

Betty shrugged, surprised by his reaction. “That’s the vibe I get.” 

 

“But you’re reading articles about the book even though you don’t like it?”

 

She looked at the guy next to her. His eyebrows were tight together, like he was trying to comprehend something bigger than this conversation. She spoke carefully. “First off, I read that article before I started the book. Second, I love reading and watching things that I don’t actually like. It makes me think, gets my brain going. I’m a non-fiction person anyway. I’m a journalist.” 

 

7B turned his whole body to face her now. She felt like someone was trying to convince her to make some kind of life changing choice, not discussing a novel she hadn’t even finished. He locked his eyes to hers as he spoke. “Don’t you think it’s possible that his motivation to make the town more interesting came from a place of not liking it or not having a good childhood there?” 

 

“Depressing, but continue.” 

 

Now he was using his hands for emphasis, waving them slightly in front of him. “Maybe he wrote this story into the town as a way of creating a world where he wasn’t bored of the same old things everyday, where there was a mystery, something actually interesting for him to do.”

 

His eyes were searching hers for something still, but all she could think to say as she looked back was “So you like the book?”

 

He broke the eye contact suddenly, facing the tray table in front of him again. “I do.”

 

“Well if that’s why he wrote it, it doesn’t bode well for my trip. I don’t want to sit around in boredom.” she said lightly, half joking, half serious.

 

He looked at her again, his smile appearing again on one side of his lips. “You don’t seem like the kind of girl who would let any situation be boring.” 

 

 _Is he flirting with me?_ But she brushed it off. He was on his way to Riverdale. If he lived there, it didn’t matter. She’d probably never see him again. 

 

But it was worth a fact check. “Do you live in Riverdale?” 

 

He shook his head, reached for the drink in front of him. “Not now. It’s my hometown. I used to picnic on Sweetwater River.” He was clearly joking, a sparkle in his blue eyes. 

 

“Ha ha. Well as an old resident, would you say it’s boring?”

 

He scoffed, the answer obvious to him. “Yes. I would.”

 

Betty groaned. “Thought so.” 

 

“You said you’re a non-fiction person. If you hate this book so much,” he gestured to the book on her lap “what books have you read recently and actually liked?” 

 

“Actually, the last book I read was poetry.” 

 

The corner of his mouth twitched up at this admission. “That’s not non-fiction.”

 

“Okay, I stray from the path sometimes. I make exceptions.” She felt her own mouth form a small smile against her will.

 

“So you liked this poetry? What book?” 

 

“The Princess Saves Herself In This One.” 

 

He nodded. “I’ve seen it around.”

 

“She just came out with a second one too.”

 

The boy in 7B trained his eyes on hers, and it felt to Betty like whatever he was about to say next held a heavy weight for him. “Do you have a favorite quote from it?” 

 

She paused for only a second, the answer was obvious to her immediately. “Make words your finest weapons. A gold hilted sword to cut your enemies down.”

 

She noticed a spark in his eyes before he spoke again, but she couldn’t tell what it meant. “So, non-fiction and poetry.”

 

“I don’t fit in just one box.” 

 

He gestured to the plane around them, as much as he could without hitting anything in the small space. “Who does?” 

 

“What about you? You’re grilling me on all of my favorites, but you haven’t said a word.”

 

He gave her a half-smile that made her chest constrict for a moment. His eyes fixed on hers again, he answered “I love a good mystery.” 

 

As the plane coasted to landing 2 hours later, Betty hadn’t read another word of the book on her lap, or pulled up an in flight movie. She had somehow spent the entire flight talking with the man next to her. And not just about books- about their favorite movies of all time, about a cooking class that he’d excelled in and a painting class she’d bombed, green vs. purple grapes, whether Hamilton is worth the ticket cost, the irritations of having shared laundry in an apartment building. Somehow, they’d talked straight through the flight, like old friends who’d known each other for years, instead of complete strangers. 

 

Walking off the plane, she gave him a smile, which he returned with a smile of his own- the kind of smile she thought she could be addicted to. But here they were, and there was no point in thinking too hard about that. 

 

He cleared his throat as they prepared to go their separate ways. “I hope you have a great trip.” 

 

“You too.” She said.

 

He gave her one last smile before walking away. It wasn’t until he was out of eyesight that she realized she never got his name. The guy in Seat 7B was all he would ever be. 

 

Betty decided to stop for a coffee before leaving the airport. Standing in line, she reached in her purse for her wallet and managed to tangle it in the purse strap, causing it all to tumble to the floor. The book she’d abandoned fell out and the back cover flap flopped off. She bent down to pick it up and noticed the About the Author section on it. 

 

> _Jughead Jones was born and raised in Riverdale. This is the first book he has had published._

 

The picture above the biography made Betty freeze. Jughead Jones looked exactly like the guy she’d spent the last 2 and a half hours talking with. The guy she had dragged this book through the mud to. He was the guy who wrote it. 

 

 _Fuck._ He had a familiar smile because she had seen his face on her book jacket. He saw her reading his book and asked her about it. She was less than kind and he must have decided not to say anything about it. Idiot. 

 

He was long gone now, but Betty frantically glanced around her just in case. Then she sighed, put the book back in her purse, and waited for her coffee. 

 

* * * * *

 

The following Monday, Betty boarded her flight back to Portland with a sense of dread. She wouldn’t have anyone to talk to on this long flight and she’d finished the book. She was trying not to think about how she wished she could tell Jughead her thoughts. She had the window seat this time, and the older woman sitting next to her had pulled out a large bundle of yarn and what looked like one of the sneeds from the Lorax. Betty pulled out a new book that she’d bought from a small store outside of town and opened to the first page. 

 

The sound of suitcases going into overhead bins became Betty’s background noise.

A small child shouted from the back of the plane, something about her missing doll.

A throat cleared in the aisle nearby. 

 

“Excuse me, miss. I was wondering if you might want to trade seats with me?”

 

Betty knew that voice. She looked up and sure enough, Jughead Jones was standing in front of her, looking at the woman with the sneed. 

 

“Jughead?” she blurted out, and his eyes moved to her.

 

“You know my name now.” He smiled the same smile that had made her feel weak before. _Yep, it still makes me feel weak now._

 

The lady with the sneed crinkled her eyebrows. “Why should I move?” 

 

“To be honest with you,” Jughead sighed “I’m actually just trying to be cute and have a moment with the girl sitting next to you.” He gestured to Betty before reaching into the pocket of his denim sherpa jacket. “And I’ll give you this Noodles and Company gift card to make it worth your while. There’s still $14.79 on there. A good deal.” 

 

The woman looked from Betty to Jughead and sighed. A couple of minutes later, she was gone and Jughead slowly slid into the seat next to Betty.

 

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” He joked, and she already felt herself falling back into the easy rhythm they’d started on their last flight.

 

“Do we?” 

 

Those blue eyes focused in on hers yet again. “So, I’m Jughead. But you know that now. And you are?” He held his hand out, and for a second she was afraid to touch it. She had a feeling that when she did, it would be over for her. That maybe she'd feel that spark that he'd written about and it would be too late to turn back. But she wasn't going to let that stop her.

 

She took his hand, and sure enough, there was a light fizz in her chest.

“Betty Cooper.”

 

He smiled, and she wondered if he'd felt it too. “You finished the book?”

 

Betty nodded.

 

“What did you think of the ending?”

 

She sighed. “I’ve got to admit, Jason’s dad being the killer hadn’t crossed my mind.” 

 

Jughead's smile widened. “So you liked it then?” 

 

“I liked the red herring all the way up to the end, that FP did it. That was a good way to throw the reader off guard.”

 

“Wow." Jughead teased. "Who here is the best selling author?”

 

“Do you always add best selling so you can try and sound cool?”

 

His response was quick and easy. “Only when I’m talking to pretty girls.”

 

She felt her cheeks redden a bit and tried to inconspicuously take a deep breath to prevent it. “You’re headed back to Portland.” She said this as casually as possible.

 

“I live there.”

 

 _Score._ “Me too.” 

 

He met her eyes carefully, about to broach a delicate subject. “At the risk of making this an incredibly awkward flight, can I take you out sometime? On regular land, not in the air.” 

 

“You have something against being in the air?”

 

His response came quickly again. “No. I just want to see you outside of a plane or an airport. We can get a hot air balloon and spend it there if that’s what you really want.” 

 

She smiled softly. “I think we can start with dinner.”

 

He smiled and she ignored the fact that the fizz was now happening without even touching him. “Sounds perfect.”

 

“I didn’t think I’d see you again." She commented as the overhead seatbelt sign lit up. "What are the chances?”

 

“Pretty low," he said, holding her gaze as he reached for his seatbelt "but I guess the odds were in our favor somehow.” 


End file.
